Chapter 3, The Blood Eagle (Non-Cons)

After refitting Elly's ball gag and pulling her to her feet I began to look over my class as they gathered themselves to move on, pulling hands from beneath skirts and straightening their clothes. Some of them met my gaze with expressions of excitement or unease, others averted their eyes, faces flushed with embarrassment or gripped with fear. None offered up any suggestions on what to do with Elly, so with the class in tow I began to move along in search.

As we walked I felt the cool rush of air as it brushed my now exposed damp thighs, I felt a little self-conscious about my current getup. This morning I had decided to go with one of my favorite "Slutty Schoolteacher" looks. I started with a matching set of lacy black bra, stockings, and garter belt, opting to forgo the matching panties. I then picked a matching black blazer and short skirt. The skirt was short enough that the tops of the stockings where they gave way to skin were left bare, the edges of the straps of the garter belt holding them up also left exposed. I wore no shirt under the blazer so the deep valley of my creamy cleavage and the edges of my bra were on display to any who looked. I had finished it off with a pair of tall black pumps and a pair of glasses, no lenses just the frames, there only to contribute to the teacher look. But now having lost my skirt my outfit felt sort of silly, near bottomless below, but still professional up top, like the woman's fashion version of a mullet. Shaking my head I put my musings behind me, time to focus on the task at hand.

I wanted to find something brutal for Elly, but the exhibits in the Hall of Executions were largely more about death than they were about suffering. Somewhere like the Hall of Torture would probably be better if pain were a priority, but we had barely had a taste of this hall and I was determined for a least a few more of my students to meet their end here before we moved on. Hoping to find inspiration I led the class to a poster on the wall mapping out everything the Hall of Executions had to offer.

The map had a handy legend, with symbols giving additional information about the exhibits. There was one that was an image of a screaming face that the legend referred to as "Expected level of Pain, Scale 1-10". The guillotine we were just at had an expected level of pain of "1-3", presumably varying based on which blade was used. Many of the exhibits here had low expected levels of pain, being humane having been an important factor in capital punishment for much of human history, but their were still a few with much higher numbers next to them. One caught my eye that I had never heard of, the "Blood Eagle" exhibit with an expected level of pain of 9. Their were no details about the exhibits on this map, but this being a school field trip I began to lead the class in that direction, after all, what are field trips for if not to learn new things?

Pushing Elly ahead of myself as we walked, one hand on her shoulder, I said "I hope you now realize the severity your actions, how would it be fair to your classmates for only you and your friends to abandon the duty you've all been given? I hope your death will help teach them all a valuable lesson in responsibility."

Looking back over her shoulder at me she gave me an perplexed, baleful expression, possibly not sure if I was trying to maintain the air of teacher sincerely, or if I was simply playing the dynamic for my own sadistic pleasure.

The exhibit appeared very simple, consisting of a shabby looking table with a few leather straps on it, a tray with a few tools on it, and a sign detailing the exhibit. Curious, I read aloud to the class.

 The Blood eagle is a method of execution detailed in ancient Norse poetry, it is unknown whether the method was historically practiced or if it was merely a literary invention.
 
 The victim of the blood eagle is placed in a prone position, a sharp tool is then used to separate the ribs from the backbone, and finally the lungs are pulled from the wound and splayed on the back to form a pair of "wings".
 
 For our exhibit we have a replica of an Old Norse short sword, of the kind that may have been used to carry out an actual Blood Eagle. We also have a variety of more modern tools, that may be more suited for a novice executioner. A stimulant is also available to be optionally administered to the victim, it will reduce bleeding as well as help keep the victim conscious, this can also be helpful for a novice executioner that may take longer to carry out the process than a practiced Norse Warrior would.
 
Looking at Elly I saw the color drained from her face and her eyes wide in horror. Smiling at her I said "Well, let's get you strapped in."

Pushing her over to the table I began to realize a problem, I had never gotten the handcuff key back from the staff after I had handed it back to them to have fun with Elly.

"I can't get you into these straps with your hands cuffed like that, and I seem to have misplaced the key." I mused aloud.

An expression of faint hope appeared on her face, perhaps she thought if I couldn't free her arms I would kill her at a different exhibit where it wouldn't matter.

"Guess there's nothing else for it." I said, roughly placing her bound hands on the table, maneuvering the thumb of one of her hands so that it was bent backwards as far as it could comfortably go, then leveraged all of my weight on the base of it. The digit resisted for a half second before I could feel it snap in the palm my hand.

A strangled scream escaped her ball-gagged mouth, and another followed as I roughly pulled her ruined hand through the metal loop. I then maneuvered her now free non-broken hand through one of the leather straps on the table and fastened it down. I went around the table to do the same to her broken hand, but my solution to freeing her from her earlier cuffs meant her hand could now just as easily slip from these new ones.

Roughly pushing Elly over and mashing her bare chest into the splintery wood, I fastened her legs with the leather straps on the legs of the table and began to look about, hoping to find a solution to my new cuff problem. Around the straps on the legs and the sides of the table I saw a smattering of small holes, looking at the available tools I found a hammer and some large old looking nails. As I tried to line up her broken hand with the pre-existing nail holes, Elly began to struggle, squealing and grunting through her gag. I need both of my hands to hold the nail and the hammer and couldn't keep her arm where I needed it.

"Lassie, could you come here and help me hold her down?" I asked, turning back to my gathered class.

Lassie cheerfully bounded over. Her arms still cuffed behind her back she wasn't in a position to hold her down like as one would normally, so instead while I held Elly in position Lassie hopped up on the table, pinning Elly's arm with her bare ass, arching her back so her cuffed arms could hold Elly's forearm still behind her. Satisfied, I lined up the nail just below the wrist of Elly's broken hand, and brought the hammer down.

Elly let out muffled scream and struggled with a renewed vigor. The nail hadn't bit into the wood of the table, but it was now solidly stuck in the bone of her wrist. No longer needing a hand to hold the nail, I now held her wrist in place as I pounded the nail in with four more strikes, Elly screaming all the while.

Lassie hopped down and I stepped back to admire our work. Elly was bent over and bound face down to the table, her too-short red plaid skirt failing to hide anything, dried cum still visible on her ass and thigh. Her nailed arm was slowly bleeding, and she had a shiny damp spot on her bicep where Lassie had been sitting, presumably from Lassie enjoying the experience. There were tears flowing from her eyes as she sobbed quietly.

Wanting to be able to move more freely while I worked, I took off my blazer and set it aside, before tying up my long brown hair into a high ponytail behind me.

Grabbing the syringe from the tray I stabbed it into Elly's neck, Elly screaming as the drug entered her bloodstream. Setting aside the spent syringe I decided to start small, to get a clearer idea of what I was working with. With that in mind I grabbed a scalpel from the tray and got to work.

I cut a rectangle through the skin and muscle starting at the base of her neck and ending at the small of her back, ignoring her screams all the while. On completing the rectangle I started slicing it away from the bone, slowly peeling the flesh back as I moved the scalpel between her ribs and the chunk of flesh, reveling in her screams and the fresh blood that liberally splattered on my exposed skin. Setting aside the now free chunk of skin of muscle I grabbed a towel from the tray, mopping away most of the blood from my workspace. It was obviously amateurish work, but in the end there was a five inch wide rectangle carved in Elly's back, the junction between each of her ribs and her spine plainly visible. Her voice had gone hoarse about halfway through, and she was now laying there still, tears slowly flowing from eyes that were staring off at nothing.

My work area now clear, I grabbed the short sword from the table. I lined it up with the lowest pair of ribs, not wanting to ruin her heart or lungs so soon should I slip, and pressed my weight into the pommel. The bone did not give easily, but when it did the sword slid in a few more inches then I intended, sinking into some organ in her abdomen and eliciting a ragged hoarse scream from Elly. Pulling the sword out until it was just the rib in depth, I tried to pull the sword up through the rib above. Again the bone didn't give easily, and when it did the sword came swinging freely from her back nearly hitting me in the face. Moving to the other side to the twin of the first rib I separated, this time I started from a few inches out from her spine, aiming to start with some momentum. The sword went though the rib more easily this time, but again I couldn't control it before it sunk a few inches deeper than I intended.

Abandoning the sword I instead picked up a chisel and the hammer I had used earlier. Lining up the chisel with the lowest unbroken rib, I swung the hammer down on it. The first rib took four swings of the hammer to get though, the second took two but accidentally went too deep, the third took three and was clean. By the fifth rib I had got a rhythm down, one strike to get the chisel through most of the way, and a gentler second one to finish it off. Elly's hoarse screams petered off as I went, probably a mix of my strikes becoming more precise and clean, and her losing the strength to muster up a greater response. With a clean strike I finished off her last rib and stepped back to admire my work.

Elly was breathing raggedly, but was still breathing, her lungs and diaphragm still able to do their job. Her back was bleeding slowly, bleeding slightly more quickly near the bottom where I had gone too deep, but the drug was doing its job of keeping her from dying of blood loss before her time. Moving back up to her torso I readied myself for the final step.

Holding her spine with one hand I grabbed her ribs with the other, pulling them apart just enough to leave a gap where I could get my hand inside. I repeated this on the other side. Reaching in I felt her lung as it expanded and contracted, shallow breathes still providing life giving oxygen to her body. Squeezing, I dragged her lung out of wound I had carved, the organ not needing much force to free it from her chest cavity. I quickly repeated this with the other one, the two lungs spread on her upper back like a pair of short bloody wings.

She gasped for air that would not come, her body convulsing and shuddering as her diaphragm tried to expand lungs that were no longer there. This continued for around two minutes, her eyes frantically searching about for who knows what, tendons in her neck taught as she failed to scream, before her body shuddered for a final time and went still.

I took a few moments to admire my work. Her unseeing eyes staring off into space, her wedged open mouth with blood dripping from its corner, blood in a small pool on the table around it where she had coughed it out. The two lungs sitting atop her back, the large exposed expanse of broken ribs and bloody muscle. The blood dripping down her sides and down her large bare breasts, mashed into the splintery wood and sitting in another larger pool of blood. Her exposed pussy under her short skirt, line of wet urine slowly running down her leg soaking into her mismatched socks and forming a puddle on the floor.

I realized I was breathing heavily, I had gotten into a real rhythm and gotten completely caught up in the execution of my student. Looking out at my students told a bit of different story than the last time. Pale faces stared back at me, some of those who had been starting to come around on the whole thing seemed to have had their fear reinvigorated. At least one girl had vomited. Several were shivering in fear. For several of them this could very possibly be the most violent act they've ever witnessed in person. A few of the girls had still been masturbating, one pale face still shuddering with a mixture of climax and fear.

I went to the table and tried to wipe down all the blood on me, I got most of it off my hands, and did my best to get the bulk of it off of my skin and cleavage, but the stockings and bra I still wore still had generous amounts of blood splattered on them, a deep contrast existing between the black of my clothes, my pale skin, and Elly's deep red blood. Ignoring it I turned to Lassie.

"That's Elly done with, you're next. Since you've been helpful and your behavior has displayed the desire to atone for your actions I'll hear you out on how want me to kill you, mind that this is still a punishment, so if I feel you're just trying to let yourself off easy I will pick something else for you."

Lassie looked up at me with her big brown puppy dog eyes, smiling nervously.